


Of DJs and Dance Floors

by Anjali_Organna



Series: Modern King AU [6]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Humor, crackfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-01
Updated: 2012-10-01
Packaged: 2017-11-15 09:46:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/525943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anjali_Organna/pseuds/Anjali_Organna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are times when Gwen does enjoy dancing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of DJs and Dance Floors

**Author's Note:**

> This was written as a one-off birthday present for kepp0xy, and therefore doesn't fit completely into the Modern King AU timeline. We're just going to pretend that neither Gwen nor Arthur remember this happening because they were drunk. Er. Or something. It would technically fall in somewhere during the time frame of Just My Type, after Gwen breaks up with Lancelot.

Three fruity drinks later, and Gwen is finally feeling like going to the club was a good plan. It had been Morgana’s idea, of course, like so many of these things are. “We’re all newly single!” she’d crowed. “What do single people do? Go to the club and dance!” And she hadn’t taken no for an answer.

Merlin’s on his fourth—or maybe fifth?—martini, and he’s starting to slur his words. Morgana’s been downing whiskey like it’s her job and eyeing various pretty boys, who are all regarding her with a lot of interest. 

“See?” she says. “Breaking up with Lancelot was your best idea yet. Look at all these boys. Why would you want to deprive yourself of them?”

“Lancelot is prettier than all of them,” Merlin points out, a tad unhelpfully. Gwen glares at him. “But I’m sure any of them are much better…uh…people?” he adds hastily.

Gwen shakes her head. “Lancelot is probably one of the best people I know. He’s nice and kind and—”

“Oh my god, Merlin,” Morgana scolds. “Look what you’ve done. Now finish your drink like a man, it’s time to dance. Gwen will forget all about Lancelot on the dance floor.” She pulls Gwen after her and Merlin, gulping, follows.

Maybe it’s because she doesn’t do it all that often, but there are times when Gwen does enjoy dancing. The club is packed but not sweaty enough to make you feel gross, and the dj is playing all the hits from the last year, the songs you know because you’ve heard them everywhere and they get lodged in your brain. 

Gwen dances. She’s laughing too; Merlin dancing is a sight to see, his long arms flailing every which way. Morgana’s hair is up in a long, glossy ponytail that whips around like a weapon, and she looks flawless even when sweating. A boy who is every bit as beautiful as she is winds his way over to her and they begin dancing together, provocatively, and Gwen laughs some more. “You can be the dj and I can be the dance floor,” Merlin mouths along to the song, dancing up to Gwen and making ridiculous faces, and really, Morgana’s a freaking genius, because all Gwen needs is her friends and hilariously bad pop music and everything suddenly seems okay again.

They’re a couple songs in when Gwen feels a slight change in the crowd, an awareness of something—or someone. “What’s going on?” she screams to Merlin. He starts to shrug and then looks down, fumbling in his pocket for his phone. 

“Oh. Arthur’s here,” he says, reading. Morgana, dancing next to him, rolls her eyes but keeps going.

“Are you going to find him?” Gwen asks. 

Merlin shakes his head. “My day off,” he says. “Bugger him.”

“Dare you to say that to his face,” Gwen says and Merlin sticks his tongue out at her. 

Time passes. She’s not sure how much: she’s lost track of the songs themselves, hearing only the pulsating beats in her blood. Morgana is still dancing with the model, and Merlin has drifted slightly away from her, engulfed by the crowd. For her part, Gwen’s content to keep moving by herself, letting the rhythm carry her mind away. Then she looks up and sees people she recognizes, a Percy someone and a few other familiar faces. Arthur’s friends, joining them. A dark-haired boy is hovering by Morgana, gesturing, and she’s laughing and swatting him away. The model-type looks on forlornly, abandoned. The crowd dances on.

There’s a light touch at her hip, and another at her shoulder. Gwen twists around and sees Arthur. His hair is dark with sweat and his collared shirt is open at the throat and clinging to his chest. Under the flashing lights, he looks utterly beautiful, and Gwen has to remind herself that he’s also Morgana’s total prat brother and royal to boot.

Without a word, he pulls her in, fingers firm against her hipbone. She slides against him, her back warm against his solid chest, and his hand splays low across her abdomen to anchor her against him. Maybe it’s the music, maybe it’s the lights, but there’s a sudden electricity in the air. Gwen’s whole body feels charged. Feeling daring, she snakes one hand behind her to grip his thigh, hard along the line of her own leg, and there’s a puff of air at her ear as he laughs. 

The moment feels like it lasts a lifetime. In reality, Gwen knows it’s approximately three or four minutes long, enough time for Britney Spears to sing about dancing at the end of the world or something. There’s nothing but Arthur’s body, wrapped around her, and the music, and the floor underneath her feet. They're moving together, and every atom in her body is attuned to him, to the feel of his hands and his chest and his face, tucked alongside hers. His lips are right by her ear and she can feel the force of his breathing, warm against her neck as he exhales. And then the beat changes and Arthur tightens his grip momentarily, drawing her even closer to him. Gwen thinks she feels something—his lips in her hair?—but that’s ridiculous, and anyways, as a new song comes pounding on, Arthur lets her go and he and his friends are swept away into the crowd.

Gwen blinks. Merlin and Morgana are dancing together, seemingly trying to out-do one another with silly, outdated moves. Gwen shrugs, shoving the odd moment to the back of her mind, and joins them.

**


End file.
